Page:Pocahontas, and Other Poems.djvu/236

 220 THE WIDOW AT HER DAUGHTER'S BRIDAL.

And should'st thou wondering mark a tear, Unconscious, from her eyelids break,

Be pitiful, and sooth the fear

That man's strong heart may ne'er partake.

A mother yields her gem to thee,

On thy true hreast to sparkle rare, She places 'neath thy household tree

The idol of her fondest care, And by thy trust to be forgiven,

When judgment wakes in terror wild, By all thy treasur'd hopes of heaven,

Deal gently with the widow's child.

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